


Have Some Pie

by NorroenDyrd



Series: Meraad Astaarit, Meraad Itwasit, Tamassran Aqun [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bittersweet, Bonding, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Haven (Dragon Age), Pack Mom, Slice of Life, The Breach (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12289977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorroenDyrd/pseuds/NorroenDyrd
Summary: Written for a Tumblr prompt 'Characters celebrating something together', this mini-story shows Herald Adaar as she oversees the celebration of closing the Breach and tires to make the festivites inclusive, sharing some food with one of her pirsoners.





	Have Some Pie

The darkened sky has grown calm - calm enough for the people of Haven to see the stars come out for the first time in weeks. Where everything was once flooded with vivid, venomously green light that burned into your eyeballs and made tears stream down your cheeks (blinding you seemingly on purpose, so that those cursed demons could lash out when you were vulnerable), there is but a single silky thread, which shimmers and billows at the drowsy, steady rhythm of a contented heartbeat. And below that thread, in the village square where the hardened, trampled-up crust of snow glows like a plate of silver, countless black dots are scurrying about, busy like hard-working ants: rolling out kegs of mead, twirling chunks of roasted meat over huge roaring fires, dragging tables from the nearby buildings to arrange them into a single line underneath the clear inky sky. One of these dots, however, moves with less frantic fuss; rising at least one human head above the bustling throng and crowned by two large curved horns, this particular figure passes across the square at a steady, glide-like pace, occasionally pointing here and inclining her head there, settling some argument between the cooks (about what seasoning herbs to use or some such) with a brief, reserved remark, and not forgetting to give a small smile to a breathless villager who runs up to her, palms pressed together in front of his chest, and half-exclaims, half-sings,  
  
‘Oh Lady Herald! You closed the Breach! You saved us all!’  
  
She seems completely in her own element here, this big, grey-skinned woman who, but a short while ago, was dragged across this very square in chains. Now she oversees the celebration in her own honour, making sure that everyone is well-fed and with a full mug in their hand, and that there are no disputes over the seating, and most importantly, that the children are having fun at their separate table, laden with the best deserts the cooks could whip up with their limited resources (apparently, Segritt had chocolate in stock, and all it took for him to give it up without overpricing it was one vigorous shake by the collar, clasped in the mighty hand of the Herald).  
  
‘I say, Mistress Adaar has remarkable organizational skills!’ Josephine exclaims, as the Herald’s huge kinsman courteously slides back a chair to help her make herself comfortable. 'She has everything running so smoothly that I haven even allowed myself a moment’s rest!’  
  
'Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, Tamassran aqun,’ the horned mercenary murmurs under his breath with a small chuckle - and then comments, in a louder voice,  
  
'That means roughly “Once a Tamassran, always a Tamassran”. It’s probably an insult to the Qun, how she still keeps following her role even as an outcast… But a lot of what you folks do here is an insult to the Qun. Would be a waste of time to hate it’.  
  
A tiny but very tense pause follows, and then the Qunari clears his throat, rubs his hands together, and announces,  
  
'Well, I’ll go find a chair for myself and grab some food’.  
  
Herald Adaar has, indeed, set the festivities to run smoothly - so smoothly that the cogs and wheels of organization keep turning of their own accord for a little while when she steps aside. The quarrels have been laid to rest, the important questions of 'Basil or no basil?’ have been answered, the Imekari have been given plenty of entertainment - so no-one will notice her absence, at least for a brief while, as, with a plateful of pie in her hands, she goes up a flight of stone steps, past the two stone dogs (one still with a caricature of Solas’ face drawn across its backside by Sera), and intercepts the pair of guards who are leading a shackled prisoner out of the Chantry.  
  
'You can leave him with me,’ she says, her deep voice stil, marked by a guttural accent. 'See to the others. Lady Nightingale is busy… checking food for poison; and even if she finds out, I will not tell her that you let him go’.  
  
The guards hover on the spot uncertainly for a moment or so, but after sizing up the Herald through the slits in their helmets and figuring that a woman who wields both a burst of flaming green Fade magic and a warhammer the size of a long log can handle one heavily chained maleficar for the two minutes before help comes along, they politely withdraw to distribute food among the other prisoners that, by order of the ever-gracious Lady Adaar, have been allowed to come out of their cells and enjoy the festivities.  
  
'So… You did do what you took the mages for,’ the prisoner remarks, watching the scar left behind by the Breach with his narrowed, sunken eyes. 'And you have let me out… for what purpose exactly? To gloat?’  
  
'I have let you out to give you pie,’ the Herald replies, as she clears a patch of snow off the nearby stone parapet and helps the shackled man sit by her side, placing the still steaming portion of fresh bakery between them. 'Remember what I told you? I understand; I have lost an Imekari too. So I am trying to offer comfort… Which includes pie. If you are wondering: Dorian enjoyed his helping, so it is good enough for… delicate Tevinter tastes’.  
  
The prisoner smirks bitterly and, jerking his shoulder in a stiff half-shrug, leans over to get himself a piece of pie (as far as his chains can allow).  
  
'Don’t mind if I do,’ he says. 'We are all going to be destroyed by the Elder One either way’.


End file.
